


someone will remember us (even in another time)

by gavinsaleks (ohmaggies)



Series: we could build a city. [2]
Category: The Creatures | Cow Chop RPF
Genre: F/F, Fake Chop, Girls in Love, Immortality, brief descriptions of violence/injuries, who never die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 00:03:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14726148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmaggies/pseuds/gavinsaleks
Summary: Lindsey doesn't know if this is going to be alright or if she'll be alive tomorrow to think this through, everything aside. But, she needs the time; to consider these bullets stuck in her shoulder and in Anna's identical shoulder, and their bodies still working despite everything. She doesn't know how they're alive right now or if she even wants to know, to take a momentary distraction from this confusion to wonder how they cheated the inevitable.All she knows is- she needs this. More than she's ever needed anything else in her entire life.





	someone will remember us (even in another time)

**Author's Note:**

> oh boy........ a companion piece to my (kinda) immortal novahd fic but this time with my favourite girls! there will be one more fic for this series with brett/trevor but this took A Lot so it'll probably be a while before that. i hope you enjoy this and i'm sorry it's such a mess, i'm a useless lesbian who can't write fdjdjdd
> 
> \- rachel.

……

 

It's a Tuesday as she drags Anna through the streets, bloodied and hysterical and an unfamiliar face in a familiar part of town. There's a wound in Anna's shoulder that's identical to one pressed into Lindsey's own shoulder, her hands mixing their blood as she pulls Anna, currently nameless and trying to murmur her name through the screams choked in her throat, around the deserted dawn of the streets.

“Anna,” the girl finally manages, and Lindsey sighs with a tired cry. They're alive but barely, dusting off concrete and gunpowder and the weight of the day. They're alive but Anna is collapsing on weak legs and Lindsey is desperately trying to hold her up, to wrap her coat further around her and pull her into her so she can keep her safe. No one's following them for now- they're okay as long as they keep walking- but nothing about Anna shot and dying and clutching with sharp nails at Lindsey's hand feels anything like 'okay.’

“I'm Lindsey,” Lindsey introduces, hopes that when Anna finally does fall to her scraped up knees on the harsh concrete of the alleyway, she knows she isn't alone.

And, she does. But she doesn't die and neither does Lindsey, and they should be dead- or one of them should, at least, because there's no way they got out of that with only one wound after being shot at too many times. They shouldn't be alive, and she's helping a slowly recovering Anna through the downstairs of her apartment building and up a flight of stairs and into the shitty place she barely manages to pay rent for.

This stranger, curled into her and breathing heavy, trying to talk like this is a one night stand, a casual meeting, and not what it really is. A young, tired criminal, and a woman who's spent the last few years trying to get out of this life only to throw herself into it again to save someone. Lindsey's read the news, seen the names and the articles and the _proof_ , but this still doesn't feel right; dying and coming back, getting shot at a billion times and only getting hit once and it being nearly fully healed less than an hour later? It's a little difficult to swallow, that's all.

Lindsey doesn't know if this is going to be alright or if she'll be alive tomorrow to think this through, everything aside. But, she needs the time; to consider these bullets stuck in her shoulder and in Anna's identical shoulder, and their bodies still working despite everything. She doesn't know how they're alive right now or if she even wants to know, to take a momentary distraction from this confusion to wonder how they cheated the inevitable.

All she knows is- she needs _this_. More than she's ever needed anything else in her entire life.

She gets it, because Anna doesn't leave. Lindsey gives her her couch, then her bed, then her heart, and slowly gets pulled back into a world she didn't want to be part of. In all honesty, she missed the adrenaline and fight and the evading the police at every corner, and there's nothing quite like the thrill of robbing somewhere with Anna by her side and their stolen matching rings shining on their left hands. It never gets in the newspaper but the store does, with its owner old and eyebrows thinning, and Lindsey swallows harsh as she wonders if this love will ever have a body count.

“Staying was never part of my plan,” Anna says, shirtless on Lindsey's counter as a harsh stab wound steadily begins to heal along her rib. “ _This_ was never part of my plan.”

Her gaze is blinding, is her hair tied behind her and her ring clicking against the cheap marble of their kitchen top, Anna's legs unable to keep still as Lindsey settles between them. She's bleeding but it looks better, and Lindsey gets too distracted by her soft, tired eyes, the way she chews the corner of her bottom lip like she's waiting for something to happen; Lindsey to tell her she loves her, to tell her she knows.

Instead, Lindsey laughs, and whispers, “What was?”

Anna kisses her and Lindsey's bloodied hands on her thighs feel like home; their hair dirty and out of place, nail polish chipped, Anna's breath warm between touches and sliding hands, and lips missing mouths. Her words are hot and honest, and hollow out and flood Lindsey's chest all at once: “I was going to rob you blind, but...”

“Why didn't you?” Lindsey murmurs, so close her lips buzz against Anna's as she speaks. “I would've let you.”

“I know, thats exactly why I didn't,” Anna replies, her small smile curving into Lindsey's, her ring cold on Lindsey's cheek as she reaches to cup her face. “That's the point, Linds.”

The silence is deafening, red and blue lights lighting up their soft lit apartment before they hear quiet sirens, screams, the telltale signs of trouble. They're used to it by now, and used to being the ones on the other side of those cop cars and the guns held by nervous officers. Gangs and rival crews will kill you well before the corrupt government forces will, a notion that never does soothe Lindsey's nerves when she and Anna are cramped in the back of a store, hands wanting to grab for each other but fear holding them firm in place.

They never die, they're lucky like that, though even then Lindsey can't help but think about it. A little too hard, admittedly. She reads the articles about people like them, who are but aren't, and doesn't want to test their luck by tempting fate. One day they'll die and it'll be with matching rings, cold lips, too many things unsaid tucked away under their tongues for a 'later’ that will never come. So, Lindsey doesn't tell Anna that they can't keep doing this, and she doesn't tell her that the police department are trying to find these two girls with too much time and never enough money.

She doesn't tell Anna and Anna keeps falling into bed with her, either pushing herself close with hands that are hesitant but needy, or with a tired sigh and burning eyes. Either way, Lindsey lets her do what she wants, with her and her body and the feelings they know but don't say. The rings aren't meant to mean anything, aren't supposed to mean they're each other's, but it's easy to pretend they are, with Anna's body close enough to make up for the lack of heating in their apartment and lips shaky and near nonexistent as they meet a willing target.

“What regrets would you have if you died?” Anna asks one day, bullets clicking together in her hand as she reaches for her gun with her other.

Lindsey doesn't reply, just looks over to find Anna's gaze and raises a curious but understanding eyebrow. It's meant to be amused, like this is something that's normal to talk about with your friend- _girl_ friend, partner, maybe fiancè with matching rings you took from a house that left behind a body and a widow. Or, it's complicated and Lindsey is tired of everything but this girl she's let herself fall for in a romantic tragedy reminiscent of all those movies she used to watch.

She doesn't answer, until Anna's hands are painted red and Lindsey is traversing bodies to fall beside her, sirens too loud in the distance. It's always Anna that gets shot and Lindsey who's trying to swallow the lump of panic and horror that builds in her throat from all the weeks of planning these heists. Anna's breathing slow and Lindsey is trying to lift her up, hands weak and failing, and her hair falling in her face like it does on the rare occasion where she leans down to kiss Anna.

“I love you,” she says, a shaky shout, hands curling around the one Anna offers her. “I'd regret not telling you that. And if you die right now, I'll hate you for the rest of my life. Seriously.”

Anna's bloodied hand slips as Lindsey grips at it tighter, her eyes darting curiously around Lindsey's trying to say what she can't. Lindsey will take it- she leans forward and presses a kiss into Anna's hair as Anna sighs and deflates, tension and pain and post-heist fading into peace. She breathes and Lindsey expects it to be final but there's a shuddery breath and one of Anna's hands reaches up and tightens at Lindsey's upper arm, and they're both alive.

By some miracle that Lindsey can't quite understand, helping Anna stumble past the wreckage and back to their apartment, to the shower big enough for both of them. The water washes most things away but not Anna's scars, the exit wounds that healed inhumanly fast though never went away completely; they stare at Lindsey as she helps scrub blood and dirt from Anna's hair and back. Stab wounds and bullets that never managed to get lodged in Anna's flesh like often happens to Lindsey, who spent her younger years screaming as she tried to dig at fragments of bullets stuck in her skin.

“I love you,” Anna says, shaking as the hot water grows cold. “I'd regret not telling you that, too.”

Lindsey lets a finger trace the light freckles on Anna's right shoulder before she leans forward to press a lingering kiss to the side of it. The anxiety bunched in Anna's nerves settles, a shy exhale accompanied by her turning carefully to face Lindsey, eyes instantly going to Lindsey's face. Their rings are steamy in the shower but clean, Anna's fingers thin as she reaches for Lindsey's left hand, to smooth along the ring on Lindsey's second last finger.

“I love you,” Lindsey breathes, hair wet and stringy in her face, and brushed aside with Anna's hand as she leans in and up to kiss her. It's soft and gentle and loving in a way Lindsey isn't sure she deserves but she lets it happen, let's her hands settle where they can as Anna breathes against her lips. “I love _you_.”

They've already killed the worst of themselves to be the best for each other, but Lindsey can't help but feel as though she hasn't earned this. It's too good to be true, that she has this and this can't die.

This love already has a body count, she's just hopes it never includes them.

 

* * *

 

Anna spends most of her time around Lindsey searching her mouth for answers; how they're supposed to forgive themselves for all the things they didn't mean to do, and how Anna can't forgive herself for not knowing how to die. She's tried, and tried, and never been the most careful at self preservation, but Death gives her too many chances these days.

She can't count on both hands the opportunities she's been given after not dying again, and again, and again. The hundred things she doesn't know about life that she's sure she'll have a long time to think about, to lie in the dark and run her tongue over her teeth like they've forgotten how to not tell a secret.

Firstly, she thinks she loves Lindsey. And sometimes, she thinks that if Lindsey knew, all this trying to die would be for nothing because Lindsey would let her die. It's this life that has her thinking that, while memories of them skin to skin in Lindsey's double bed has her clinging to hope that maybe Lindsey loves her too.

So, secondly, she thinks Lindsey loves her too. Except, most times she mistakes these matching rings on their hands as a way to identify each other's bodies in case of the worst, and not as a promise. It doesn't have to mean anything, really, it doesn't, but Anna twists the gold around her finger and it means every word she could never say. This promise, these girls with hazard lights blinking in their eyes, with hands clasped as though they've forgotten that they're not meant to do this.

And, thirdly- every single thing that Anna hasn't bothered to figure out fits under three umbrellas of tragedy: Lindsey loves her, or she doesn't, or these burrowed out holes in Anna's heart have enough vacancy for all these things to occupy. All ninety nine things that keep her clinging to life when she's dying and crying or screaming or Lindsey is kissing what might be her last breath from her mouth.

One day she'll slip and tell Lindsey she loves her, and that she thinks Lindsey loves her too, and that there are more than a handful of things attached to those thoughts that Anna can't seem to shake. The one hundredth thing, that she's counted on her fingers like sheep while trying to sleep with police sirens in her ears:

_Do I deserve to be here?_

She knows she might love Lindsey, and she knows Lindsey might love her, but there's one thing she knows for certain. She was achingly lonely without Lindsey, and it's taken her five years to realise she can't do this on her own any more than she can't keep trying to let herself get killed just because she can't.

It- being her body slumped against a floor and a woman who is her partner in a confusing mess of the word, red stains on concrete and then the carpet of their apartment- happens three months after they meet. It's a Tuesday, Anna tucked into Lindsey's side in a near mirror image of the first time they meet, but Anna is the only one that's shot this time, and she's tugging down Lindsey as she clings to her and hopes her legs find the strength to keep going. They do, moments before she collapses with a cry against their kitchen counter, the wound that made it hard to get here gone but aching like it's present.

“Shower,” Lindsey says, and Anna hates it. The times where Lindsey is more tired, concerned friend than she is the person Anna knows like the back of her hand; Anna's seen all of Lindsey, at her best and her worst and her lips delicately parted as Anna hovers above her just to _see_ , and this is her least favourite. It's exhausted, it's 'how does this keep happening?’, and 'why does this keep happening?’, and ‘I can't help thinking I might lose you.’ It's Anna wishing she was bulletproof and not just this odd immortal criminal loving this maybe mortal criminal.

They say ‘I love you’ around the water and the steam into each other's months- each other's hearts. And Anna's been scared of losing something before but not the way she is with this, hands on Lindsey's face gently pushing hair away so she can get a good look at her through the drops of water on her eyelashes. Lindsey's stunning, really, and up close it's unbearable to only look, to not move forward until she's forced against the cool tiles of the shower wall and Anna can see her and love her.

Weeks pass and all those articles written by unknowing Los Santos reporters find their way to her lap, neat black font with eyewitness statements. No one can believe she's still alive, even with blurry security cam footage of her dark hair and the smile on her face reserved only for Lindsey. Too many officers say they shot her dead, too many focuses on how much blood she left behind and how impossible it is for her to have walked out of there alive. That, and a photo of two boys printed beside it; their time keeps running out and restarting, and hers is endless.

Lindsey smiles at her, her laugh and soft eyes stealing every inch of breath from Anna's lungs. It's those looks that remind Anna of how glad she is to have Lindsey, to be able to let her guard down and trust that they'll have one another for as long as this life grants them. She hopes it's forever because she needs Lindsey's kisses and her hands and these memories in her head that replay on repeat; Anna loves her, and Lindsey loves her, and Los Santos has never felt like home but it does with her.

Maybe no one will remember them, but for as long as Anna gets as lucky as she does, she will. Her and Lindsey- the world at their fingertips, the two rings on their matching fingers, the black and white photos that don't do them justice. Love is a difficult thing and Anna's content with not trying to understand it, even though Lindsey's voice in her ear and her hands on her body are the closest to figuring love out that Anna has ever gotten.

“Why did you save me? That day?” Anna asks, staring out at the ocean from where they're leaning against Lindsey's car, the afternoon beach breeze tangling their hair. Anna tucks loose strings of her hair behind her ear, slowly turning to glance curiously at the woman standing beside her, their tired, fond eyes quickly meeting. She doesn't complain when Lindsey notices her shivering limbs and slowly shifts closer to press their sides together, body warmth soothing Anna's shakes.

“Looked like you needed it,” Lindsey replies, and Anna almost spots the exact moment she falls in love with her all over again, her left hand with her ring bright reaching for Lindsey's closest hand. “And I was shot, too, by the way- I was so not going to die alone.”

Anna laughs, polite more than anything, and smiles as Lindsey drops her head gently onto her shoulder. Their hair gets in their faces but fireworks on the beach a few miles away draw their attention away from it, hands clasped tight and firm, palms warm and pressed together. Anna wants to kiss her, almost more than she wants anything else, but instead rests her own head against Lindsey's, allows herself to forget wanted posters and dying and police, and focus instead on her cliche of a home.

Not Los Santos or this car or this beach, but something else. Something human and loving, and gazing out content at the ocean waves swallowing the sand.

Anna doesn't know if this is going to be alright or if they'll be alive tomorrow to think through, everything right now put aside. But, she needs the time; to consider all these scars with no entry or exit wounds, and how lucky they both are that Lindsey hasn't been shot fatally on a heist like Anna has plenty. She doesn't know how they're alive right now or if she even wants to know, to take a momentary pause from this to wonder how she keeps cheating the inevitable.

All she knows is- she needs _this_. More than she's ever needed anything else in her entire life. And she gets to have it and call it hers; she'd take that over anything else any day.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://gavinsaleks.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> kudos and comments are always appreciated, thank u!  ♡.
> 
> \- rachel.


End file.
